


Let Me Watch You Burn

by Silkette



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Dark, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Hubert is just Dubious tbh, M/M, Mentioned past noncon, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rare Pairings, darkbert all the way, dubcon, no softbert here, this is really just an excuse for Hubert to fuck everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28840971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silkette/pseuds/Silkette
Summary: Hubert has been very, very good for a very, very long time, and decides he's very overdue for a reward. With war creeping closer every day, he decides to catch himself human "pet". A devoted (Hubert will make him so) male lover he can visit whenever he needs the itch scratched, then put away once he's satisfied. He decides to choose his pet from amongst his classmates. But Hubert is nothing if not scientific and choosing a lover without testing him first is just asking for trouble.Seems there's only one answer.Seducing his classmates, one by one, till he finds his perfect pet.Who says Hubert von Vestra doesn't know how to have fun?
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 20
Kudos: 56





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kinda, sorta kink meme fill because I think the original prompt was deleted. Either way, please enjoy asshole!Hubert getting his seduction on.
> 
> (Huge thanks to real MVPs Elasmosaurus and siderealOtaku for beta-ing and help in general!)

As the future Minister of the Imperial Household and right hand of the heir to the Adrestian Empire, Hubert had fielded plenty of romantic advances in his time. As soon as he was considered old enough to be marriage material, that was it. Suddenly, he was being pursued by dozens of hopeful suitors at every social function he was forced to attend with his lady. Hubert had gone from being invisible to being stalked from every direction by scores of batting eyes and pouty lips. The heads of old noble houses and the nouveau riche alike turned their attention to him and sent their most eligible daughters - armed with years of lessons in coquettery - in for the kill. Bushels of invitations to take tea, or go for a carriage ride, or attend a Mittelfrank opera, came addressed to him. Piles of sickening gifts were sent his way. Endless love letters were slipped under his door. They were excellent kindling. As for the gifts, he used them for target practice. Those abysmal armored bears made for impressive explosions when hit with his strongest _Death Γ_.

Despite acting as uninterested and often outright rude and abrasive as he could, Hubert was still pursued relentlessly. If Sylvain was right about one thing in his worthless existence, it was that some women really would do absolutely anything to catch a noble husband.

Fat chance of that. Hubert had far bigger fish to fry than choosing a wife. Besides, even if he were on the prowl for a spouse, his female admirers would still be out of luck. Beautiful, swooning women had no effect Hubert.

Now beautiful, swooning _men_ on the other hand…

No one except Lady Edelgard knew of Hubert’s preference for his own sex. Truly, he’d be surprised if anyone at Garreg Mach knew he had a libido at all, since he still kept up his old habits of turning down and disposing of any attempts to court him. To most, Hubert von Vestra was functionally asexual. It was a misapprehension he did little to discourage. All the better to stay unnoticed as he slinked through the shadows and cut his lady’s bloody path. Dating? Who had time for that when they were on their way to total domination?

Not that his obvious lack of interest prevented the more persistent of Hubert’s acquaintances from speculation.

“Why _Hubie_ , is that tea I spy?” Dorothea asked after cornering him in the entrance hall one day as he returned from the market. “I thought you never touched the stuff.”

“You would be correct,” Hubert said without stopping so she was forced to dodge to avoid being run over. “It is for Lady Edelgard.”

“I should have known!” She nudged him and winked conspiratorially. “You do take such good care of her, Hubie. It’s adorable!”

“Indeed. I am her vassal.”

“Aww, come now. Surely it’s more than that…?”

“No,” said Hubert flatly as they reached the dining hall and he set off towards the table where his lady was eating lunch with Petra. “It isn’t.”

“Whatever you say, Hubie!” Dorothea had trilled after him, making several male (and a few female) diners look up hopefully. “Whatever you say!”

Hubert smirked at the memory. How amusing to be teased about his relationship with Lady Edelgard when the both of them were patently uninterested in the opposite sex. His lady had confided in him that she wanted a husband like she wanted an axe wound to the head. It was also particularly funny that _Dorothea_ of all people thought they were romantically involved. Edelgard’s eye had indeed been caught, but not by Hubert. He was well aware of the feelings his lady harboured for the beautiful songstress.

“She is indeed lovely, my Lady,” Hubert had mentioned to Edelgard before battle one day as he helped her strap on her armor. “And I believe she could be swayed to our way of thinking more easily than most. You have made a good choice.”

Edelgard had flushed red as the half cape she wore.

“I did not ask, Hubert. Keep your mind on the task at hand.” A pause, then “...though if you truly believe Dorothea a likely candidate to aid in our plans, I will think on it further.”

Hubert smirked and tightened a strap.

“As you wish, my Lady.”

So, if all went well, soon Lady Edelgard would have a consort in Dorothea. Hubert had no objection. Dorothea was good for his lady and would be an asset to their cause. Not only was she a powerful sorceress, but also as a former commoner she provided a point of view both Hubert and his lady lacked. Yes, Dorothea would be good for Edelgard, and if that ever stopped being the case…

Hubert had broken many beautiful things in his time.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. Hubert tended towards cynicism by nature, but even he had to admit things were proceeding nicely at the moment. Which gave him some rare free time to think about other things besides the coming insurrection. Chief among them being that watching his lady become close to a potential paramour made Hubert realize he’d rather like one for himself. Though perhaps “paramour” was the wrong word. Hubert wasn’t looking for a relationship (the war would dry up what little free time he had) but rather he wanted…

A pet. Yes, “pet” was the right word. Hubert wanted a pet.

A lovely creature he could come home to after a hard day’s killing and mutilating. Get his itches scratched and his lust sated by a man trained to always be happy to see him. Molded by Hubert’s own hand to be ever pliant, always willing, never annoying his master with what he wanted and just fully focused on making _Hubert_ happy. Like hiring a whore, but without the expense or risk. Broken and then rebuilt to be totally devoted and loyal, someone Hubert could keep around him without fear of being compromised. Yes, a pet would be just what the doctor ordered.

The question was, would his lady allow it?

Hubert thought so. He’d served her faithfully for many years without asking anything in return. Not that Hubert resented this, on the contrary, he was proud of his work and revelled in the wonderful job he did of every task she assigned him. Yet, even the most devoted of servants needed something for themselves every now and again. An occasional distraction to keep Hubert’s sharp mind becoming dulled by monotony. _A change was as good as a rest_ , as the saying went. Hubert wouldn’t have time to rest, so change would have to do instead.

Yes, he was confident Lady Edelgard would not deny him his request. Hubert had been very, very good for many years, and those who had been very, very good deserved a treat. That was the way the world worked, was it not?

Once his mind was made up, Hubert set aside his next small window of free time to begin his task. After class was over for the day, he locked himself in his room, put on a pot of coffee, and set to work.

Obviously, the first and most important task would be choosing _who_ his pet should be.

Hubert decided immediately that one of his fellow students would be the most sensible choice. He was fairly certain most of them would never side with Lady Edelgard in the upcoming war, certainly not the nobles who had everything to lose. Hubert predicted that even most of their fellow Eagles would flee to join their enemies when the time came. None of them lived with the same fire, the burning need to build a better world no matter the cost, as his lady did. They’d miss their chance out of apathy or fear, and history would leave them behind to rot along with the broken system they served. They were all going to die anyway, so why not spare one for himself?

Honestly, Hubert would be doing his pet a favor in his own twisted way. At least he’d get to go on living, albeit slightly altered. If Hubert and his lady managed to talk one or two of their classmates around, he’d have to amend his plan as needed. Until then, he’d consider all of them as potential candidates. They were the right age, he knew their strengths and weaknesses, and, most vital of all, he had easy access to each and every one of them. For Hubert wasn’t going to do something as foolish as choose his treat based on looks alone. That was just asking to be let down. No, his potential pets would have to be tested one by one. No point catching the most aesthetically pleasing student, only to find he was a total flop between the sheets, both figuratively and literally.

There was truly nothing else for it: to be sure he got the best, Hubert would just have to bed them all one by one.

It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.

Not really, but Hubert would anyway.

Once his coffee had boiled down to his preferred tar-like sludge, Hubert sat at his desk and wrote out a list of all his male classmates using his most fiendish cipher. He would approach the choosing of his pet like he did any other task: logically and with ruthless precision. 

To save time, he started by eliminating Dimitri, Claude and Cyril as potential candidates right off the bat.

Cyril because he was too young and Hubert was not about to sit around twiddling his thumbs for a few years until Cyril grew into the handsome man he was destined to be. Not when there were so many other good options already available.

Dimitri and Claude had to go because they were both dead men walking. Hubert had to admit it was a shame, since both the prince and future duke were gorgeous specimens he predicted would only get better with age. Dimitri would be fun to break. Claude, fun to play with, and then break. Unfortunately, needs must and Dimitri and Claude were far too risky to keep alive, even broken as Hubert intended his pet to be. His lady knew she could ill afford to spare two foreign leaders, lest their future enemies find out and rally behind them. Dimitri and Claude had to die. They’d be dead already if not for that interfering plank of wood, Byleth, and his father showing up at precisely the wrong time. No, Dimitri and Claude couldn’t be candidates. The mission must come first.

Instant eliminations dealt with, Hubert divided the page in two and labelled one column “easy” and the other “challenging.” He then got to work dividing the remaining names between them.

After a lot of thought, Hubert came to the conclusion that Sylvain, Ashe, Raphael, Ignatz and Balthus could all be talked into to sleeping with him, while Felix, Lorenz, Yuri and Dedue would need some extra leverage. Caspar and Linhardt would be problematic for a different reason, so he put them by themselves for the moment.

Hubert finished his first coffee and gazed critically at column one. Simpler to bed they may be, but he still needed a plan for each of them. The last thing he wanted was to fumble a seduction and start a lot of annoying rumors. The gossip-mongers of Garreg Mach were always hungry for new scandal, and Hubert had no wish to become an object of interest. A spymaster could not afford to draw that kind of attention to himself. _Failing to prepare was preparing to fail._ Hubert didn’t think back on his father’s words of wisdom often, especially now he’d gutted the Marquis and left his entrails to be eaten by the palace dogs, but that particular gem still rang true.

So, let’s see what he had to work with.

Hubert knew without even needing to think about it that Sylvain would be easiest to seduce by far. His rampant promiscuity was legendary at Garreg Mach; young, old, man, woman, servant, or noble, Sylvain would jump into bed with anything that showed the slightest reciprocation to his overeager advances. Even with their mutual distaste for one another, Hubert was certain that if he offered himself, Sylvain would take him up on it. Out of curiosity if nothing else.

Raphael would probably be fairly simple too. He was a man completely at peace with his appetites and Hubert knew he’d already had several cheerful, no-strings-attached trysts with a few of the maids and stablehands. Raphael was open about enjoying sex and would probably join Hubert for a roll in the hay if Hubert asked just right. Cook up some story about feeling lonely and frustrated, play on Raphael’s generous nature and his desire to help anyone in need. No, bedding him would not be much of an effort.

Now, Ashe, Ashe would be more difficult. Though not so much that he belonged in the other column. Hubert still thought he could make him give in fairly quickly if he played his cards just right. Ashe was shy and his experiences with sex were probably unpleasant. Hubert knew he’d been forced to resort to selling himself during his days living on the streets when stealing hadn’t been enough to keep him and his siblings fed. Harsh, often painful, businesslike relations, done to survive rather than for love or pleasure. Hubert was sure he could use that to his advantage, that Ashe’s past was the chink in the would-be knight’s armor that he could exploit. Remind Ashe where he came from, remind him where he could be sent _back_ to unless he played nice with those in high places. Ashe wasn’t confident yet and still had trouble looking certain nobles in the eye. Hubert’s blood was as blue as any other aristocrat’s, even if it was something he rarely thought about. Yes, a few perfectly vicious choice words to bring back painful memories, a well timed threat or two, and Hubert would have Ashe on his knees; terrified and begging to please him. Delicious.

He made a few notes beside Ashe’s name and moved on down the list.

Ignatz. Hubert knew from their limited interactions that he had a similarly timid and emotional nature as Ashe, but with the added challenge of intact virginity and a middle class sense of worth. Though Hubert was reasonably confident he could overpower him by exploiting Ignatz’s bottomless pit of guilt. Hubert knew how much the death of Raphael’s parents tormented Ignatz. He would use those feelings of self-loathing to break him down, and then pick up the pieces by offering the comfort of intimacy. People always made stupid decisions about sex while they were hurting. Not at all dissimilar to one of Hubert’s favorite methods of interrogation, really.

More notes. Next.

Balthus _should_ have been simplicity itself: he was promiscuous and massively in debt, and Hubert was eager and very rich. Anyone would think it a match made in heaven. He should have been able to just wave a heavy sack of gold under Balthus’ nose and propose a night of passion in exchange for cold, hard cash. The issue wasn’t about exchanging sex for gold, Hubert was sure Balthus had done so in the past, but that Hubert was a man and Balthus was still deep in denial about his flamingly obvious bisexuality. The Exalted King of Grappling continued to shy away from including men in his list of loves alongside wine, women and dice. He still insisted he was straight, no matter how many times he woke up in another man’s bed after too many drinks the night before. Hubert knew it drove Yuri quietly insane, but so far his fellow Wolf had held firm in his ridiculous convictions. If Balthus was straight, and Hubert was High Queen of Sreng. He would have to find some way to use Balthus’ insecurities to help get into his bed. Drinking together was out of the question. Hubert’s tolerance was good, but he knew Balthus would destroy him. 

Hubert added a few more notes and appendices, and soon the first column was done. Now onto the far trickier candidates, the ones Hubert couldn’t see allowing him into their beds on words alone, no matter how silver the tongue they came from.

First up, Caspar and Linhardt, who were challenging because they were already romantically involved with each other. The two had been dating for over a year now, and their relationship seemed rock solid. Hubert couldn’t imagine Caspar ever cheating on Linhardt, or vice versa. So, what could he do? He could take them together, that was always an option. But it might be hard to give each of them a fair evaluation if he went with the threesome plan. Perhaps he should go the Ignatz and Ashe route and engineer a situation where one was left vulnerable and in desperate need to comfort? Say, if Caspar happened to be injured in battle after Linhardt failed in his duty as healer? Or if Linhardt was targeted and Caspar couldn’t protect him like he did usually? Yes, there was something there. Hubert could work out a way to wheedle in between the witless wonder and his beloved layabout.

Felix was a prickly, hissy little beast and Hubert knew anyone foolish enough to try and touch him would likely lose a limb. All except Sylvain. Sylvain, who Hubert was certain Felix would let touch him any way he pleased, and then mew for more. Sylvain, who Felix was so blindingly, obviously in love with, but would never confess his feelings to for fear of being rejected. Little did Felix know, not only did his beloved redheaded louse like him back just as much, but he also refused to tell Felix for the very same reasons! It was absolutely hilarious. Like some terrible, farcical opera. No wonder the little swordsman was so consistently pissed off when he had to watch the object of his deepest affections flirting with everything that moved and some things that didn’t (unfortunately, Hubert had heard the infamous scarecrow story), all day, every day. Everything that moved except him, even though Sylvain would probably _wed_ the idiot if he only knew. But he didn’t, and so Felix kept on pining like a bitch in heat and getting his heart trampled every day. He liked to pretend he didn’t have a heart, but he did, and it would be his undoing. Yes, Sylvain was key to Felix. Hubert didn’t have a plan yet, but some promising seeds were already germinating in his wonderfully wicked brain.

He marked Felix as simply “Sylvain” and moved on.

Lorenz would be easiest if alcohol was used, as Hubert could never see him agreeing to bed anyone before marriage unless he wasn’t in his right mind. Over the last few months, Hubert had observed the Gloucester fop as he did all their fellow students. In doing so, he’d noticed Lorenz rarely finished a full glass of wine, just as he rarely finished a full plate of food. Merely sipped enough to be polite, then set it aside in favor of something lighter. Add that to his slender build and perpetually empty stomach, and his tolerance must be awful. A few glasses of the good stuff would go right to his head. Add in a few choice comments about Claude (their “rivalry” was _very_ interesting to Hubert) and Lorenz would be putty in his hands. The trick would be getting him drunk enough to agree to Hubert’s advances, but sober enough not to pass out on him. Hubert had no wish to fuck something that didn’t respond. If that was all he needed, he’d just pay a visit to Sylvain’s scarecrow.

So, alcohol for Lorenz. Next.

Yuri would definitely be a challenge, possibly the most daunting of all. True, Yuri was promiscuous, but he was also cunning, whip smart, shrewd, and almost as devious as Hubert himself. Meaning that Hubert suddenly trying to seduce him out of nowhere would set every alarm bell ringing in his lavender head. Twisted schemes that would have had lesser men in Hubert’s bed in ten minutes would never work on the Savage Mockingbird. Hubert would have to approach with caution, or Yuri would see right through him. He’d be a tough nut to crack, and Hubert was rather looking forward to working out how to best him. He didn’t face genuine challenges very often in his line of work. Better to save Yuri till near the end and give himself time to think. Fools rush in, and Hubert was no fool. He _made_ fools, then just as quickly turned them into corpses.

He added a question mark, and a quick note about his frustration with Balthus, to Yuri’s name, and continued down to the list’s final entry.

The last candidate was one Hubert could see being hardest of all, potentially even more so than Yuri: Dedue. Dedue was...difficult. Even after months of living relatively close and watching him from afar, Hubert still had no idea what to make of Dedue Molinaro. At first glance, he seemed a deceptively simple creature. Just another overly loyal grunt lacking enough spine to pick himself up and go on without Dimitri to hold his hand, and yet...Hubert sensed there was far more to Dedue than met the eye. Secrets buried inside that could be unearthed if he dared scratch Dedue’s impassive surface. Still waters ran deep, and Hubert’s instincts told him these particular waters ran very deep indeed. Dedue would not bend easily to him, if at all.

The only “in” Hubert could think of was Dimitri, and dangling the prince in front of Dedue was about as safe as poking a sleeping demonic beast in the eye. Dedue would rip him limb from limb if Hubert was foolish enough to ever threaten the prince. He’d have to think of something else, but what? Play on his insecurities (if Dedue even had insecurities) about being an outsider from a ruined nation? Tempt him with being selfish and allowing himself some pleasure for once? Offer him a nice basket of vegetables from the greenhouse? Urgh, two ideas in, and he was already drowning. Hubert decided to shelve his fellow retainer for now. Give himself some time to dissect Dedue to see what made him tick. Again, like Yuri, he was rather looking forward to it.

His list complete, Hubert leaned back in his chair to sip his coffee and admire his work. An excellent start, if he did say so himself. This was going to be _fun._ Now he could-

_Wait_ , one, two, three, four...

He was one potential short. Who had he-?

A sudden loud banging at the door had Hubert almost pouring boiling water over his crotch. He swore filthily, slammed the cup down, and stalked over to throw open the door and face whatever imbecile dared disturb him.

Blinding, beaming, sickening sunlight _orange_ stood on his threshold.

“Hubert!” Ferdinand von Aegir exclaimed at his usual ear-splitting volume. “Please pardon the interruption, but I wondered if perhaps you could lend me your aid?”

“No,” Hubert said, and began to shut the door.

Only to have Ferdinand grab it.

“Wait! You have not even asked what I-“

“Exactly, because I don’t care,” Hubert ground out, taking a small amount of acidic pleasure when Ferdinand frowned. “I’m busy. Go away.”

Then he wrenched the door out of Ferdinand’s hold and slammed it in his face.

The fool was still blabbering on. Something about training, or lances, or other such drivel. Hubert locked the door, pointedly turning the key as loudly as he could with the hope Ferdinand would get the message.

It seemed to work. There was a pause, then Hubert heard an irritated huff and the retreating sound of boots on stone.

He knew what he had to do.

Snatching up his list, he drew a new column and labelled it: “Not in a million years/Too stupid to live/I would rather fuck Solon”. Underneath, he wrote “Ferdinand von Aegir” and underlined it so harshly that the paper tore.

No, Ferdinand would _not_ be one of his potential pets. Not because he wasn’t good looking, quite the contrary, but because his presence was like an insect slowly burrowing into Hubert’s brain. If Hubert had believed in the Goddess, nothing could have convinced him more of what an evil, capricious bitch she must be than making a man as beautiful as Ferdinand von Aegir, and then giving him the personality of a walking migraine.

Hubert would never choose Ferdinand. Loveliest looks of any man in Garreg Mach or not, he was just too annoying.

Deed done, orange pest deterred, and task finally complete, Hubert picked up his coffee cup and smirked to himself over the rim.

Let the games begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Now the set up is done, next time we can get to the good stuff. >)


	2. Sylvain in the Stables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert sets his plan in motion, starting with Sylvain.

Hubert had long memorized the schedules of his fellow students. Just in case the need should ever arise that he had to find one of them on short notice. Which meant he knew exactly where to look for Sylvain the day he decided to begin his little experiment.

Sylvain had stable duty today and tomorrow. An early training session with Byleth meant he hadn’t been able to attend to his chores in the morning before class, and so had come to make up the time during lunch. It would be the perfect opportunity. No one else would be around, the grooms and stablehands all in the dining hall for their midday meal. Hubert would have a full hour to claim his prize. Though he doubted he’d need half that long.

He entered the stables and immediately set eyes on his prey. Sylvain was busy cleaning out an empty stall whilst whistling a tune Hubert recognized as a bawdy tavern song. He’d shed down to his shirt to work, jacket slung carelessly over one of the lantern hooks. 

Hubert moved closer, silent as a shadow, and gave his quarry an appreciative once over. Sylvain had a very nice back, broad of shoulder and trim of waist from all his lancework. He was that lovely tapering shape that made Hubert want to run his hands up and down his sides till he squirmed at the overstimulation. What lay below the waist was even better. Sylvain’s pants were very tight, to the extent Hubert wondered if he’d deliberately asked for a size too small so he could show off all the more. It seemed like something Sylvain would do.

Then again, who was complaining? Certainly not Hubert. That ass looked like it had been sculpted by the Goddess herself while at her most sexually frustrated. Tight, muscled, just begging to be used and wrecked. No wonder Sylvain had managed to talk his way into so many beds even with his abysmal pick up lines. He was gorgeous.

He was also a redhead. Hubert _liked_ redheads. Though Sylvain’s shade might have been a little dark for his tastes.

He watched Sylvain bend over and felt his own pants grow uncomfortably tight. Time to take the next step. Looking was nice, but touching was a million times nicer. Soon that delightful back and ass would be pressed against him as he fucked Sylvain open. The thought made him shiver all over.

“Having fun?” Hubert asked.

He smirked when Sylvain started sharply and cursed as he banged his elbow against the stall wall. His jacket slipped off the hook and fell to the hay-strewn floor. Neither of them paid it any mind.

Sylvain quickly stood and turned to stare at Hubert, rubbing his sore arm where he’d probably jogged his funny bone.

“Hubert?” Sylvain sounded surprised to see him there. He narrowed his eyes, not bothering to hide his suspicion. “What are you doing here? Looking for a house to haunt?”

“Just admiring the view.”

“Oh yeah?” Sylvain said in a tone of disbelief.

He leaned back against the stall door and crossed his arms behind his head. Hubert watched his shirt strain across his chest and felt his cock twitch.

“Thought you didn’t care for horses.”

“Who said I was talking about the horses?” Hubert sauntered closer, grinning as he saw Sylvain swallow.

Gautier could play cool all he wanted, Hubert knew the signs of intimidation far too well. He guessed his target’s heartbeat had quickened and his palms begun to sweat. Good. It was a surprisingly fine line between fearful and aroused.

“Uh-huh,” Sylvain still tried to sound flippant as Hubert pushed into his personal space. “Then what were you talking about?”

“You know, Sylvain,” he said in lieu of answering the question. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you lately.”

Hubert paused in front of Sylvain and joined him leaning against the stall. Though he angled himself so he was turned towards Sylvain rather than away. Sylvain was tall, but Hubert still had the height advantage by an inch or two.

“All lies, I assure you,” Sylvain said breezily. “Unless it’s good, then it’s all true.”

Hubert snickered.

“Good, you’ll be pleased to know, very good. Your former lovers are dying to sing your praises. About your skill in bed, anyway.”

Sylvain paused and blinked, obviously wrongfooted. Hubert could tell that of all the things he’d expected him to say, this wasn’t one of them.

“Oh yeah?” He said slowly, obviously trying to work out Hubert’s angle. “Why would you care about that?” 

“I have my reasons.”

“Which are what?” Sylvain frowned. “What exactly is this all about, Hubert? You gonna tell me, or do you just get off on being cryptic?”

Seems he was getting a little rattled. Better to press on and keep his potential pet off balance than risk him losing his temper and stalking off. Hubert had decided that being relatively blunt with Sylvain would be the surest way to get what he wanted. He knew it would stroke the lech’s ego to believe the - quote, unquote - “sexless” von Vestra had come to him for a tryst before anyone else.

Sylvain was at the mercy of his own self-image. Make him feel good enough to forget his yawning chasm of self-loathing, and Hubert knew he could have him wriggling like a worm on a hook. Sylvain was vulnerable. Sylvain was _easy._ It was why Hubert had targeted him first.

“Not on being cryptic, but it’s funny you should mention getting off,” Hubert purred and moved even closer. He saw Sylvain swallow again and noticed his hands were balled into fists behind his head.

“You see, Sylvain,” he went on. “I’ve been feeling _tense_ lately. Tired and unfocused, overwrought even. Shocking, I know. But I’m sure you can imagine what a heavy responsibility it is to be vassal to Adrestia’s future Emperor.”

Sylvain said nothing and Hubert dared to get even closer. He was near boxing Sylvain in at this point, and took it as very encouraging when he didn’t try to shove Hubert aside and bolt. Instead he licked his lips, still tense but now with a gleam of curiosity in his hazel eyes. Good, good, it was all going very well. As predicted, this wouldn’t take long.

“I must have not looked my best because a certain former paramour of yours, we needn’t go into specifics, but this person told me how they’d been under pressure lately too. And that you had, shall we say, helped them _relax…_ ”

They were face to face now. Sylvain’s gaze bore into him and Hubert noticed with glee that his pupils were blown.

“Hmm, yeah, I’ll admit that does sound like me,” Sylvain said with a slightly crooked smile. “What can I say? I’m a giver at heart, and the thing I give best is my dick.”

If Sylvain expected Hubert to be put off by such a bold statement, he was about to be disappointed.

“Heh, indeed. That’s what I’ve heard,” Hubert swiftly leaned in so their noses almost brushed. Sylvain licked his lips again. Hubert could see tiny beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“But hearing about it is one thing, perhaps you could show me…?”

Then he reached out and boldly grabbed a handful of Sylvain’s crotch. He gasped and tried to hold himself still. Hubert’s smirk grew, Sylvain was just as hard as he was.

He began to rub the bulge with the heel of his palm, only to have Sylvain grab his wrist.

“ _Hubert_ ,” his voice was rough, gravelly with barely repressed lust. “I swear, if this is some fucking scheme-“

“It isn’t,” Hubert lied and ground his hand against Sylvain’s erection, making him groan and shudder. His nipples were as hard as his dick, starkly outlined by the tight white material of his shirt. Hubert longed to pinch them hard until Sylvain cried out. Either in pleasure or pain, he didn’t care.

“I just want you, Sylvain. I want what your other lovers had. I want you to use those skilled hands and mouth of yours to make me forget my troubles. I want you to fuck me, Sylvain, fuck me hard. Make me feel _good_.”

Hubert kept rubbing Sylvain’s cock throughout this whole speech. His breathing was ragged and sweat ran down his face to pool at his collar. A delectable looking treat Hubert very much wanted to nibble on, so he did.

Sylvain moaned and bucked, eyes rolling up as Hubert kissed and bit up his throat. 

He was almost there now, so close to giving in, but he still hadn’t reciprocated. Only after that would Hubert know he’d won. Just one more little push…

“You know,” he licked the shell of Sylvain’s burning ear, basking in the shudder he drew from him, and lied shamelessly. “I’ve never been with another man before. Sylvain, would you be my first?”

That did it. Hubert could practically hear Sylvain’s last reservation shatter. He grabbed Hubert and smashed their lips together in a rough, hungry kiss. There was no build-up, no tenderness, just animalistic lust. Hubert gave as good as he got; biting down on Sylvain’s lip to make him gasp, then thrusting his tongue into that burning, wet mouth. Sylvain’s fingers dug painfully into the sides of Hubert’s head, making Hubert hiss and bite him again.

The greedy, painful kiss went on for another minute until Hubert wrenched away, breathing heavily. Sylvain was panting just as hard but he stared back defiantly, lips wet with bloody saliva.

Hubert grinned and rubbed his erection against Sylvain’s inner thigh, making him tense and shudder.

“Shall we take this somewhere a little more private?” Hubert said, pointing to the hayloft.

Sylvain nodded eagerly and soon they were up the ladder, rolling around in the piles of sweet smelling hay. Hubert made sure he always ended up on top.

He smirked into Sylvain’s mouth as the thought occurred to him that he’d come for a roll in the hay and now that was, quite literally, what they were doing. Life could be genuinely amusing sometimes.

Hubert broke the kiss and bit Sylvain’s neck, digging his teeth in till he tasted more blood. Sylvain groaned and bucked against him, gasping and writhing. Seems he enjoyed a little pain. Good. Hubert enjoyed causing a little pain. Or a lot.

“Take off your clothes,” he growled into Sylvain’s ear. “Now. I want to see you.”

“Heh, eager, are we?” Sylvain grinned, then swore as Hubert tweaked a sensitive nipple through his shirt. “Ow! Okay, okay, fine. You’re pretty aggressive for your first time.”

“What can I say? I’m a quick study,” Hubert said, drinking in the very pleasant sight of Sylvain’s slowly emerging naked torso as he unbuttoned his shirt.

He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Finally giving Hubert a good look at his prize.

Narrow waisted, broad shouldered and with abdominal muscles like cut glass. Oh _yes_ , the lancer build was definitely Hubert’s favorite. The strength of a warrior combined with the lean grace of a sniper. Not too bulky and not too slight. Truly the best of both worlds. Dark red hair covered Sylvain’s chest, curling and damp from the sweat. Hubert’s mouth watered. How he loved red hair.

“I’m sure…” Sylvain smirked up at him, then unbuckled his belt and shed his boots, pants and finally his smalls. “Whatever you say, Hubert von Vestral Virgin.”

Hubert rolled his eyes. So Sylvain had seen through that part of his web of lies. He’d need to play it cooler from now on if he used the “be my first” ploy again. Duly noted.

He didn’t think about it for long. Not with Sylvain beneath him, playfully rolling his hips so his cock waved in Hubert’s direction. Shameless braggart. That body plus his cheeky arrogance, just begging to be fucked out of him. Sylvain was sluttily magnetic.

Also it was a _very_ nice cock.

“Like what you see?” Sylvain teased.

“Perhaps,” Hubert took his dick in his hand and dragged a slow stroke up from base to tip, making Sylvain groan. “Or perhaps I’ve seen better.”

“ _Heh_ , doubt it.”

There was that self-satisfied smirk again. He really was unbearable. Hubert felt his own cock twitch painfully at the thought of fucking that lazy smile until Sylvain’s mouth stretched and ached too much to say his own name. He could feel a bead of pre-cum stain his smalls and Sylvain was squirming in his gloved hand. Time to get to the main course.

Hubert let go, ignoring Sylvain’s frustrated tut, and quickly stripped. Before he tossed away his pants, he removed a small vial of oil from the pocket. His gloves stayed on as always.

Sylvain chuckled as Hubert poured the oil into his palm.

“You’re gonna ruin your gloves like that. Why not take them off?”

Hubert ignored him and concentrated on slathering oil on his straining cock instead. He was careful not to stroke the sensitive head too hard. He intended to last longer than Sylvain, who was still talking.

“Unless it’s your fetish - hey! Woah, woah there! Who said you were topping?”

“I did,” Hubert said simply.

He reached between Sylvain’s legs to slick his hole, only for his hand to be blocked when Sylvain squeezed his thighs together. Hubert glared, Sylvain frowned right back.

“Tough shit, _Hubie._ Why should I let you top me when it was you who came to me begging me to fuck you? When you _apparently-_ ” he rolled his eyes at this. “-never fucked a guy before?”

“Because,” Hubert grinned and held up the empty vial. “We’re out of oil. And unless you want to try and fuck me dry, _Sylvie_ , I’d say that ship has sailed.”

Sylvain swore filthily which only made Hubert grin wider. He was having so much fun.

“If that’s how you feel, I suppose we must give in and end our encounter here,” he said. “It’s a pity but if you absolutely insist you won’t let me top you-“

“Okay, okay, fine!” Sylvain grimaced as Hubert made as if to climb off him. “But I am _not_ doing it facing you.”

Heh, he knew that would work. Sylvain had tried to call his bluff, but Hubert always played with the deck stacked in his favor. He knew Sylvain would be too far gone to stop now. When it came to his libido, he had the self control of a starving dog in a butcher’s shop,

“Very well.”

Hubert backed up and waited patiently. Eventually Sylvain rolled his eyes and switched position so he was on all fours, ass bared to Hubert atop shapely rider’s thighs. Hubert took his time admiring the view until Sylvain shook his backside irritably.

“Well? Your dick fall off or what?”

“Just savoring the anticipation,” Hubert purred. “Something I imagine you understand nothing about.”

Sylvain snorted.

“I understand you begged to fuck me but now I’m about to die of old age-“

Hubert shut him up by parting those pert cheeks and smearing the oil around Sylvain’s puckered hole with more force than needed. Sylvain bit back a groan, squirming as Hubert thrust a slick finger inside him with little preparation. Even though the gloves he could feel that soft, delicate flesh _burn._

“Like that?” Hubert grinned, pumping his finger in and out then adding another when Sylvain wasn’t quite ready. The yelp Sylvain couldn’t quite stifle was music to his ears. This one definitely enjoyed pain. Hubert would have fun testing his limits.

“ _Mmm…_ ”

“Want more, or is this too much already? My, my, I thought you were tougher than that, Sylvain. Or at least that an equestrian would make a better rider.”

“Are you ever actually going to fuck me any time soon or has hearing yourself talk made you already shoot your load?”

The naked challenge in Sylvain’s flippant statement made Hubert’s blood froth. No more mercy!

“If that’s what you want, then who am I to deny.”

Hubert scissored his fingers, fast and rough, gleefully soaking up every gasp, curse and moan that fell from Sylvain’s lips as he shuddered and tried to relax around the sting of being stretched. A preference for topping he may have, but it seemed Sylvain enjoyed being dominated even if he wouldn’t admit to it. Hubert gleefully slapped his ass with his free hand, then reached around and squeezed Sylvain’s sack.

“Fuck!” Sylvain howled, writhing and twisting in Hubert’s cruel, gripping hands. “Oh fuck you! Oh Goddess-! Shit fucking bastard!”

Hubert chuckled. This was such a good idea. He was having the time of his life.

“Too tight, my dear?”

“Fuck you, you ugly fuck! Don’t ever do that agai-AAAH!”

Shoving your cock deep up someone’s ass. A reliable way to stop them yelling at you, Hubert found.

He leaned over Sylvain’s sweat slicked back and sheathed himself fully in his tight, slippery heat. They both groaned and held still for a moment as their bodies adjusted. Silence fell. Neither moved.

Sylvain broke first.

“Hubert,” he groaned, forehead resting on the floor and sounding like his teeth were clenched. “Move.”

“Say please,” Hubert purred against the back of his neck, letting out another dark chuckle as Sylvain cursed him.

He was too wound up to stay angry for long.

“ _Please_ move.”

“Hmm, look at that, he can be taught. What a good boy.”

He pulled back and thrust in as hard as he could so Sylvain’s growl became a scream. Then he pulled back and did it again, deep as he could go.

Hubert fucked Sylvain mercilessly, setting a ruthless pace with no time for him to recover from one thrust to the next. Pleasure and pain surely blending together into a boiling overflow of stimulation. Sylvain writhed and howled and clenched, alternatively snarling at Hubert and begging him for more. Angry, needy little cockslut. He was a real gem.

Hubert saw Sylvain lift a shaking hand to touch his cock and slapped his ass hard.

“Leave it,” he hissed in Sylvain’s ear as he cried out at the sudden pain.

“I need-!”

“ _I_ say what you need, Gautier!”

Then he seized that tempting cock himself and squeezed and rubbed and chafed it against the oily leather of his glove. Too hard, too fast, too much.

Too perfect for both of them. Sylvain arched up with a cry that was almost a sob of pleasure and Hubert jackhammered his hips against that burning hole with such intensity he half expected his spend to drip out of Sylvain’s mouth. So close-!

Hubert bit the back of Sylvain’s neck, wanting to push him over the edge first. Sylvain whined and writhed, cock leaking over Hubert’s glove.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck-! Yes! _Feli-_ “

Hubert jammed his fingers so far down Sylvain’s throat it was a wonder he didn’t rupture something. Sylvain came gagging and choking and the sounds pushed Hubert to his own climax a few seconds later.

They rode out their shared pleasure and pain (Sylvain’s) and rutted against each other until at last it was over and they collapsed in the hay, gasping and pouring with sweat. Hubert slid out of Sylvain with a wet sound and rolled onto his back, luxuriating in the afterglow.

Not the ending he expected, but satisfying even so. There were probably a lot of people out there who’d get off on seeing Sylvain being painfully and forcibly shut up. Hubert was definitely one of them.

A short time later, he felt Sylvain shift beside him and gently touch his shoulder.

“Hey, uhh, about what just happened…”

Hubert opened his eyes a sliver and stared lazily at Sylvain. He’d never seen him look guilty before. Hubert decided it suited him.

He didn’t bother to reply. Sylvain waited as long as he could, then squirmed and sighed, looking away remorsefully.

“Look, just, sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to do it...just kinda slipped out-“

“Do what?” Oh, he was enjoying this.

Sylvain turned as red as his hair. His voice was a mortified mumble when he next spoke.

“Saying...calling you something else…”

“Ah, I see,” Hubert stared straight at him. “You want to apologize for trying to call me Felix, yes?”

If he’d looked mortified before, now Sylvain looked like he just wanted to sink through the floor and never be seen again.

“Yeah...I’m really sorry. I don’t usually do...that.”

“No need to worry,” Hubert said lightly, resting his head on his arms and stretching again like a relaxed cat. “I know how you feel about him. How much you love him.”

Sylvain blanched. 

“I-I don’t-“ he stammered.

“Oh please, don’t bother to deny it,” Hubert interrupted. “It’s so obvious. It would have been even if you didn’t just scream his name while I fucked you.”

Sylvain fell silent. Hubert imagined he didn’t have any clue how to respond to that. So he spoke again instead:

“Yes, it’s very obvious how you feel. Almost as obvious as the way he feels about you.”

Sylvain’s head jerked up in surprise and suddenly he was pressing closer to Hubert and gazing at him with desperate hope.

“What, really? You mean he-he-?”

Hubert turned his head and smiled kindly at Sylvain.

“Hates you? Yes.”

Sylvain’s face fell faster than if he’d jumped off the Star Terrace. He stared at Hubert, hazel eyes filled up with shock and hurt. Then his expression darkened and he snarled furiously.

“Oh get fucked, Vestra! As if you know how Felix feels about me!”

“Like I know how you feel for him?” Hubert challenged.

Sylvain glared, face an ugly red.

“That’s different!”

“How?”

“Because-! Because Felix is better at hiding his emotions than I am!”

“Not from where I’m standing,” Hubert chuckled, basking in Sylvain’s distress. “Or lying, if you prefer,”

Sylvain opened his mouth but Hubert spoke over him.

“Really Gautier, even you can’t be that oblivious,” Hubert goaded. “A blind man could see how much he resents your presence. Think about it, idiot. When was the last time he was happy to see you? When did you two talk without it ending with him insulting you?”

“You’re wrong,” Sylvain said but with less surety than before.

Hubert could see he was really getting under his skin. He ruthlessly pressed his advantage. Did Sylvain think he could get away with blurting out the wrong name while Hubert fucked him? What a fool. Hubert would crush him like spun glass under an iron boot.

“Am I? Then explain to me why your friendship has devolved so badly. Explain why sweet little Fraldarius can barely stand to be around you when before he looked at you like you hung the moon?” Hubert had heard all this second hand and had stowed it away for a moment just like this. “It’s because he knows you pant after him like a beast in heat, and it disgusts him. _You_ disgust him, Sylvain, and if you weren’t a vain, self-obsessed dolt, you would have realized that long ago. How many times does he have to tell you to go away and leave him alone before you get it?”

Sylvain stared at him in silence. His mouth was slightly open and his face was pale. He looked less like a man who just enjoyed a good hard fuck and more like one who’d been punched in the gut and was still trying to work out what happened.

Hubert smirked, stretched one last time, and got to his feet.

“Just forget him, Sylvain,” he said conversationally as he lazily gathered up his clothes and began to dress. “Forget him and find some pretty, fertile thing to settle down with instead. Get married and sire lots of children like a good little lordling. What else is a louse like you good for?”

He buttoned his jacket and stared Sylvain straight in the eye.

“Because you will never have Felix.”

Hubert left Sylvain lying naked in the hay.

***

It was already nighttime when Hubert sat at his desk to jot down his thoughts on his first encounter. He’d decided to leave a few hours in between each round of sex and their evaluations to give him time to cool down and be as dispassionate as possible. No use diving in while half his blood was still in the wrong head.

He took out a fresh quill and sharpened it slowly, thinking to himself all the while. Now he’d fucked his first potential pet, he believed he had a good idea how to grade Sylvain and all who followed him. Split the important points into categories and then rate each out of ten. That was the fairest way to proceed and would make sure he didn’t forget anything later.

He dipped the nib in ink and began to write in his cipher. 

Potential Pet no. 1

Name: Sylvain Jose Gautier

Background: Heir to Gautier territory

Ease of Seduction: 2/10, pathetically simple, went exactly as predicted 

Looks: 8.5/10, lancer’s build (he’d have to train to stay in shape), red hair (v. attractive, I have always had a thing for redheads), scars (tasty), long legs

Voice: 3/10, pleasant enough but nothing special, would have given 4 but North Faerghus accent could get annoying after awhile (perhaps consider elocution lessons? Or ballgag?)

Penis Size: 7/10, medium to large

Amusement Value Out of Bed: 7/10, fiery, has a good mind though pretends he doesn’t, can play chess with me, quick witted

Amusement Value In Bed: 8/10, likes pain (v. v. good!), knows how to fuck, prefers being on top but that can be fixed

Extra Points of Interest: v. insecure so would be easy to break, has a big weakness in Fraldarius (kill him in front of him? Use as leverage then kill him anyway? Must think on this further), close companion to Dimitri (may have sensitive information?), magically gifted (some fun with Reason aided sex?), redhead (I do not care if I’ve said it before, it’s a v. big +)

So, out of a potential 60, Sylvain scored a 35. Hubert gave him a 5 point bonus for his hair, a 3 for his magic, but removed 2 for his accent. Leaving Sylvain with a very respectable final score of 41/60.

Hubert read over what he’d written and nodded to himself. A most auspicious start.

He leaned back in his chair and smirked up at the ceiling.

Raphael next.

***

The following morning dawned gray and overcast, threatening the kind of fine drizzle that soaked a person to the skin before they realized it.

Ferdinand waited impatiently outside the stables, arms folded and foot tapping against the cobblestones. The monastery bells had just chimed quarter after seven, which meant he was officially late in starting his chores. Though this was not Ferdinand’s fault, rather it was because his assigned partner hadn’t turned up.

Ferdinand sighed and was just debating whether it was worth trying to find Sylvain or if he should just do both shares himself, when a familiar figure appeared from around the corner.

“Lorenz!” Ferdinand beamed at the sight of his best friend. “Good morning! Ah, you have not happened to have seen Sylvain, have you? He is scheduled to share stable duty this morning with me but, as you can see, he has not arrived.”

“Yes, yes, I am aware,” Lorenz said crossly. “Unfortunately, he could not make it this morning. I was asked to step in as his replacement.”

“Oh dear, why?” Ferdinand asked, concerned. “Is he sick?”

“You might say that. If you can call drinking himself stupid and waking up too hungover to stand, sick.” Lorenz said with a look of extreme disapproval as they headed into the stables together. “Prince Dimitri was looking after him when I left. Apparently he’d just vomited all over his bed.”

“Oh my. Why would he do that? Drink so much, I mean.” Ferdinand frowned as he shrugged off his jacket and hung it up.

“Who knows,” Lorenz rolled his eyes, picking up a large bucket of feed and beginning to fill the troughs on one side. “He just seems to get more wild and undisciplined every day.”

“Maybe he was upset about something?”

“That does not matter! A true noble does not allow himself to become inebriated like that, whatever the reason. _I_ certainly never would!”

“No, I am sure you would not...” Ferdinand trailed off as he stepped on something half hidden in the straw. He stooped and picked up a crumpled black jacket, obviously left there by a student.

Ferdinand flipped it inside out to check the name tag sewn into the collar:

_Sylvain J. Gautier_

Well, how curious! Ferdinand thought to himself, only half listening as Lorenz carried on his monologue on the absolute necessity of moderation and the beauty of self-control in all aspects of life. Why would Sylvain just leave his jacket lying on the floor of stables?.

Oh well, perhaps he could ask him about it when he was feeling better.

“Ferdinand,” Lorenz called from inside a stall. “Could you please pass me another curry comb? I fear this one has seen better days.”

Ferdinand hung up Sylvain’s jacket beside his own and grabbed two combs. Putting the mysteries of his classmate out of his mind while there was work to be done.

“Coming!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark!bert is a real ass, isn’t he? Poor Sylvain! Why must I torture him so 😩
> 
> More coming soon! ;v;


End file.
